


Manic-quins

by drownoutlove (Sept_Meules)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Coffeemaker, College Student Mark, Fashion Student Sean, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, The story had deviated from the original prompt, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sept_Meules/pseuds/drownoutlove
Summary: The last time someone broke in Jack's studio, he called Mark, his voice in the verge of crying. Instead of calling police, Mark went down the studio and beat up the tresspasser with a mannequin's leg. Art: http://butterkiller-blog.tumblr.com/post/151236659904/art-for-my-story-manic-quins-where-jack-as-a





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 30th fanfic in AO3! Yay!
> 
> I didn't notice this until while I was posting, but yay!
> 
> If you're here from Tumblr, then you have been caught by my trap.
> 
> I've been contemplating on how to raise my hits, and I decided a well selfish eay to do it is to create fanart to link between the story and fan art. Pfft, I told you selfish.
> 
> If you haven't seen it here's the link: http://butterkiller-blog.tumblr.com/post/151236659904/art-for-my-story-manic-quins-where-jack-as-a
> 
> If there's no link, its because the art haven't been upload yet. XD sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> This is my third Septiplier fanfic, second week in the fandom. Yeah, I'm fairly new, hehehe.
> 
> If you haven't seen the other two fics I've written... well... I won't link it becaause that just shows how much of a fucking narcissist I am. Derp.
> 
> Anyway, the prompt I used is from the same AU prompt as the fireman one.
> 
> So....
> 
> Septiplier AWAY!

"Maaaark!" Scream-whispered Jack into his phone.

Mark blinked blearily into the phone, staring at the time on the screen, he wiped a hand over his face as he pressed thr phone back on his ear. "Jack, it's the ungodly hour of the morning, what the fuck, man?" He grumbled in his phone.

"Mark!" The Irishman whispered, but this time his fear was more pronounced.

Suddenly, Mark jolted straight up his desk, alarmed and undeniably worried of his best friend's state. "Oh god, Sean, did someone break in again?" He questioned, voice equally quiet as if he was in the same room as Jack.

The last time someone broke in Jack's studio, he called Mark, his voice in the verge of crying. Instead of calling police, Mark went down the studio and beat up the tresspasser with a mannequin's leg. Turned out that it was Felix who had wanted to surprised Jack early for his birthday. Felix had to nurse a bruised cheek as he went home to Marzia, Marzia couldn't get mad at Mark for beating her boyfriend up, and jokingly suggested to Felix that a mannequin was probably better security than electric fences.

"N-no." Jack said breathlessly.

"What is it, buddy?"

"I-I think one of the mannequins moved!"

Mark's brows furrowed in incredulity and disbelief, his eyes lowered to stare weirdly at his notes in lieu of eyeing his bestfriend weirdly. "Jack--" He paused, unable to come up with something _proper_ to tell him, to _disprove_ that something unliving and definitely immobile had suddenly moved. "Jack, you're seeing things!" He decidedly told him.

"Nooo!" Exclaimed the Irishman, "I-I know it moved. Oh god, I haven't blinked, just-just in case it comes nearer. Mark, please help me!"

He groaned, hitting his forehead on his notes, highlighters and ballpens. He then grumbled incoherently under his breath when he felt the pain. Okay, he needed to be more awake, but to smash his forehead on an uneven surface was not worth it. He lifted his gaze to glare at air, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"T-thank you, Mark!" Jack whispered so graciously Mark felt sympathy for him.

Mark ended the call. Phone in his pocket, he grabbed a jacket, and his keys.

Exitting his room, he came into the merged living room and kitchenette. As he stared at the kitchen, he felt that there was something amiss. But he couldn't pinpoint what. Well, the windows look secured enough. No one could've came in without him knowing. He'll get to it later, right now, his priority is Sean 'A mannequin just moved!' McLoughlin.

He crossed the living room and checked Jack's room, cracking the door open to check the window. Which was also locked close.

He shook his head. And left the apartment.

 

 

Jack's studio was a small office space where he stored and created his clothes; all his fashion related things. His sewing machine, his fabrics, his mood boards, every fashion related stuff was relocated there, ob th their apartment was far too cramp to be a store room. Jack's office was ten blocks away from their apartment, it was convenient.

But recently, Jack had been neglecting to sleep and eat properly, he had favoured to use all his hours in his studio to finish the five piece collection he has to present as his finals project. The top three students would be given the privilege to have a proper catwalk and have their collection featured in the school website.

The upside of having a Fashion major of a best friend was that Mark can wear unique, coutured, prototypes and model them in public. It had turned heads why a guy was wearing a lace shirt, but Mark gave no fuck because he was proud of his best friend's creation. It was unusual, but Jack had been praised in Instagram for deconstructing more gender-stereotype by having his buff best friend wear feminine lace.

"Oh hey kid." The secueity guard greeted as Mark erupted in the lobby of the office building. "Came to finally get your friend?"

Mark offered a tired smile, "Yessir."

The man nodded off to the elevator, "He's been cooping himself up for four days, that couldn't be healthy."

"Well, he's finishing up a project, so..." He drawled, giving the man a 'you know' gesture.

The man nodded, handing him an ID, "You can proceed."

He beamed at the security guard, raising the ID, muttering a "Thanks." and then wore it.

Mark headed to the elevator, got in one easily and punched the '4' button.

The first time Jack took Mark to the studio was when Jack had bought shit tons of fabric and couldn't bring it up the elevator on his own. They weren't best friends then, but that was one if the memorable events they shared.

_"Which floor?"_

_"Push the 4th Floor button, LIKE A BOSS!"_ And he had thrown his arms up like an excited little kid. He was adorable in his own way, but when the elevator doors closed on the pink silk cloth, Jack was cursing the elevator like it was the worst creature ever created. _"What'chu lookin' at?"_ Jack spat, glaring at Mark.

Mark then noticed he had been laughing at Jack's attics of saving his pink silk. He shook his head, _"Nothing, you're just adorable."_

Jack narrowed his eyes at him and responded with a _"Your mom's adorable!"_ He probably meant it as an insult, but it didn't feel like it.

He pressed the 4th floor button again, and he couldn't help but smile as he muttered under his breath, "Like a boss."

 

Manuvering around the studio, Mark searched for his best friend but could not find him. He wasn't in the small stock room (Mark's disappointed there wasn't a small tent made out of organza and linen). Nor in the main space where there were seven mannequins standing proudly naked.

He wasn't at the sewing table. Nor was he under the pile of rejected fabric. But he did find their coffee maker plugged in and dripping fresh coffee serenely.

How could he ignore something so vital? He'd been wondering in their kitchen this morning, absentmindedly looking for their coffeemaker, but could not find anything that resembled to a coffeemaker, there was a French Press somewhere in the cupboards, but Mark didn't know how to use the blasted thing. He left it alone and went off.

"Jack?" He called out, but there was no reply. He went to the office desk and saw the man's glasses were still there. Jack never leaves without his glasses, he may not wear it as often as he is seen holding it, but if a girl never leaves home without her MAC lipstick, Jack's MAC lipstick is his glasses.

He rounded the table and sees a pair of black converse poking out.

"Oh god, I hope the mannequin didn't eat you and left your shoes." He quipped to himself. But he knew. So he pulled the swivel chair out and saw his best friend.

In the small space the table allowed, there was his best friend, all crammed in like a porcelain doll. Well, a porcelain doll with green hair.

Mark grinned, "You're such a leprechaun." He muttered, staring at Jack. "Glob dammit, Sean, you're too cute for your own good."

Jack's head was bowed down, chin on his chest, silently snoring, making the fur on his vest flutter. His knees against his chest, a futile mean of a shield against the Moving Mannequin.

Mark snorted as he felt around his back pocket for his phone, "You don't think I understood that reference, huh? Doctor Who, much, Jack?" He opened the camera app and quickly took a picture of his best friend. It's too flaunt to Felix and Marzia, and to make Jack blush and fluster. Not for Mark to keep the picture after that and make it into his wallpaper or anything, cause that's just weird, and Jack knows his passcode for some reason.

After securing his phone in his pocket, he got on his knees and reached out to grab Jack on the shoulders, gently shaking him awake.

"Jack!" He scream-whispered. "I got the mannequin to leave! Come on, let's go home."

Jack slowly blinked his eyes open, rubbing the sleep off his eyes with the back of his hand. He hummed in confusion as he slowly processed where he was, he looked at his best friend, "Mark, what--?"

"Moving mannequins, Jack." He answered.

Jack's eyes widened, "Holy shit! How am I still alive?!"

Mark couldn't help but laugh at that, "I got here in time and fended it off with my trusty," he reached up the desk and pulled down the first thing his hand landed on, "sonic tailor's chalk!"

Jack glared at him, "Don't make fun of me, you doof! The mannequin really _did_ move!"

Suddenly they heard something rustling behind the table, a towering shadow fell on Mark, making Jack freeze up.

"Hey bros."

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sorry, I don't think your head will fit in any kind of neckline."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there were two of you who requested for a part deux of this. For others, two is a small number, but to me, bitch please, that's more than enough for me to scramble for a pen and paper. 
> 
> What is it about Jack as a fashion student you like, guys??? Or is it because you like the fluff, diabetes-inducing way Mark found him?
> 
> Do tell me please. ;D
> 
> I want to tag 'smut' on this just to raise hits, a social experiment, if you will, I know that raises hits, okay? Trust me on this one.
> 
> Anyway, I'm listening to my playlist of Bring Me The Horizon, so I'm super into writing this. Full immersion, ya know. 
> 
> So I'm late to the fandom, and I'm late to discovering MariaMediaHere's Septiplier comic on DeviantArt. It's called 'Rooftop', based on a fanfic on Fanfiction.net, I believe. 
> 
> So go on and check that out!
> 
> Without any more of my shitty ramblings,
> 
> Septiplier AWAY!

"Holy shit, Tyra Banks just followed me on Instagram!" Jack yelled from his room. 

Mark scoffed as he flipped a pancake. 

Both their exams were done, and they were celebrating by lounging in the house for the week, because next week they'll be going to their respective houses to unwind with family, and then come back and slay being an engineer and a fashion designer. 

Jack just made third place on the school thing, and his Intagram was booming with followers and likes consequently. 

_"Zoe Sugg and Dan Howell's collections are better than mine, that's why I got third, Felix. No, no. I'm not mad I got-- oh please, Marzia would agree with me if she was there to see the show."_  Mark remembered, overhearing Jack on the phone. 

Mark was on an exam during Jack's show, so only Felix had the honors of watching the catwalk. Marzia had to fly to Italy for a family matter. 

"Mark!" Jack yelled, the door to his bedroom slamming wide open and the green-haired guy was practically floating to the kitchen. "Mark, do you see this?! Oh my god, I literally cannot even, I can't even. I am unable to even, I have lost my ahility to even, I am unable to even--!"

"Well, you deserve it, buddy." Mark told him, without turning to look at his best friend. 

"Oy, Mark! Face me when I'm talkin' to ya!--"

Mark obeyed, but he didn't predict that Jack was actually behind him. As he twirled in his place, he was nose to nose with Jack. 

_Holy shit._

Mark's eyes were wider than he had possibly widened them in life out of shock. He felt heat on his face and he was fairly certain that he was radiating heat and that Jack's next course of action was to turn the AC up. 

Jack only blinked, twice, and then kissed him on the nose, turned around and sat his adorable butt by the island counter. "So what's for dinner?"

Mark didn't know whether his heart just stopped beating or it was too fast it felt like it stopped. He whipped back to making pancakes, and didn't speak for a couple of seconds, until he remembered Jack's question. "P-pancakes, I'm making pancakes..."

Jack scoffed, "Is that the only thing we're capable of making in this household?"

Mark didn't reply, still engrossed on the scene not a minute ago. 

"Felix and Marzia's coming over tomorrow for lunch, are we gonna cook or we ordering in? Mark?"

He finished all the pancake batter, turned the stove off and turned to face Jack, "What the hell was that?!"

"Oh," The green-haired guy said, "you don't want them to come over?"

"No! Not that!" Mark exclaimed, flustered in embarassment and misplaced anger, "What the hell was," he vaguely and violently pointed between them and then at where Jack was standing a minute ago, "that?!"

Jack blinked innocently, "You don't like Eskimo kisses?"

Mark's eyebrows were knitted together in confusion, "'Eskimo kisses?'"

"Yeah!" Jack replied, "I saw it on Tumblr!"

"Wha-- 'Eskimo kisses' aren't like that!" He said, rather petulantly, "It's just nose-to-nose!"

Suddenly, Jack had gotten up during Mark's rambling and was making his way in front Mark again. "Then I'll do a French kiss then."

 

 

_"...mmm... Jack, Jack... mm--don't stop... Please-- Sean..."_

"Dear god, you're disgusting."

Mark jolted awake, pulling himself up by the armrest above his head, and sitting on his knees. He whipped his head to the source of the voice. "What the-- _Felix?!_ "

The blond grinned wearily at him, "Hey bro."

Suddenly, Edgar was scuttling on the floor, running to nibble at Felix's pant leg. 

Mark's eyes went wild, shifting, looking at everything, every single detail in the living room, unconsciously avoiding Felix's deriding smirk. And then he couldn't avoid it anymore, he deflated back into the couch and let his hand cover his face in embarassment. "That was all a dream?"

"Yeah, bro." The blond replied, rubbing Edgar behind the ear, "You started moanin' and stuff and Edgar was waking you up, and you were making smoochy faces at my dog and--" He bursted out laughing, "Holy shit, Mark! I wish I remembered to take a video, or a pic at least."

Mark glared at the guy from under his hand, "I hate you and your perfect... Swedish-ness."

Felix clicked his tongue, taken aback, offended, he looked at Mark, "I'm not perfect! I'm _FABULOUS~~!!_ "

Mark only gave out a frustrated groan in reply. 

Felix chuckled, "Anyway, your bae and mine went to pick up the food from the Mediterreanean restaurant Marzia's been wanting to eat at."

Mark dropped his hand to his stomach, "Felix?"

"Ja?"

"Can you promise not to tell anyone about this?"

 

 

They both had a white plastic bag in their hands as they walked side by side on the sidewalk.

"You should come over to Italy, one time. We could check out street styles during the Milan Fashion Week." Marzia said as they turned a corner. "My relatives have this house there and they barely use it, so we have it all to ourselves, so I guess we should take Felix and Mark with us too..."

"Yeah..." Jack replied, but his tone and eyes were distant. 

Marzia frowned, "Sean? Are you alright?"

Jack blinked twice, before turning to face his friend, "Sorry, what?"

She offered him a smile, "What's bothering you?"

They stopped walking, "I--" Jack started, "I'm going back to Ireland." His eyes were still downcast. 

"Yeah?"

"But it's for good, I'm pursuing my career over there and my sister got me a job there as a fashion editor's assistant." He smiled up at her, "which is a huge leap from what I could ever fathom. But..." His voice trailed off, tinged with sadness. 

"But?" She urged him softly.

"But that means I'll be leaving Mark." He paused, and then looked up at her again, "And-and you and Felix, and--"

She shushed him with a small shake of her head and a smile, "It's alright, Sean. Felix and I know you have a thing for Mark. You're not hiding it very well, you know." She told him. "But it is really... sad for you to leave already. Especially for Mark."

He gave a heartbroken pout, "I-I know, and I don't want to, but," his hands went up to press the heel of his palms in his eyes, "Oh god, I don't-- how do I even tell him?"

She reached out a hand and placed it on his tense shoulder, frown on her face, sympathetic of her friend's situation. "You have to, unfortunately."

 

 

"You should confess to him, bro." Felix said, manipulating the coffeemaker, to make something for his friend to gather his thoughts with. The blond's right hand went up to a tender spot on his forehead, muttering, "Fuck, it still hurts where you threw that tailor's chalk at me." When the appliance hummed, dripping coffee into the pot, he turned around and leaned on the sink, "Like seriously, if half the people in this building knew he's actually single and you didn't reciprocate his feelings, they'd be clamoring for his affections, bribing him into their car with a plate of cookies or something."

Mark turned around to give him a look, "'Bribing him into their car'? Felix, he's not a kid--" And then his brain fully processed what the blond said, "' _Reciprocate my feelings_?!'"

Felix threw his hands open, looking up at the ceiling, "He finally gets it!" He looked at his friend with seriousness, "Yes you twit, he likes you too."

Mark scoffed so hard he chocked on his own spit, "Wha-what? He doesn't--! I don't--! We're not--"

Felix waved him off dismissively, "Bitch please, Markimoo, you like Jack Potato as much as he loves cookies. And he likes you as much as he loves fashion.

Mark stared at him in disbelief. "No, he doesn't."

"Pssh, puh-lease, Markimoo." The blond said. "You ran to him as soon as he called you. And you 'saved' him by throw _pink_ tailor's chalk on my beautiful forehead. Like," he rounded the island counter dividing the kitchen from the living room, "you can slot your engagement ring in the dent you made on my face and hand me to Jack and he'd still say 'I do' because... it's from you, Jack."

Mark narrowed his eyes at him, "What the heck, Felix."

"I know the engagement ring part is a bit too far, but, seriously, though. What stops you two from tying the knot in, say, five years? Basically," Felix said, sighing in resignation, "Before I go fucking running with ideas, making you name your first child after me, confess to him, Mark. Nothing stops you."

 

 

"Felix! Mark! We're back!" Marzia called as she and Jack entered the apartment. 

"We're playing video ga--!" Felix yelled, "Fuck me sideways! Mark, you inconsiderate cheat!"

Mark's laugh replied. 

Marzia and Jack silently put the food on the island counter. 

 

 

_"I'm sorry, Jack. I truly wish I could help you with this." Marzia cooed, side-hugging the green-haired guy. They were sitted on the bench in the small park a corner's walk from the apartment._

_Jack wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. "Nah, it can't be helped."_

 

 

With the game paused, the four of them were seated around the island counter. Felix at the head of the table, if that could be called it, Marzia to his left, and Jack and Mark to his right. Edgar was napping on the couch. 

"Hey, Jack, I had a dream that Tyra Banks followed you on Instagram." Mark told his best friend. 

Jack looked up from his greens, "Huh? No, she actually did. I told you about it last night, but I don't think you would've heard. You were drunk off your arse, you fell face down on the couch and dozed off."

Marzia smiled, "That's cool, Sean!"

"Yeah, man," Felix added, "Can I wear one of your princess gowns so she'll follow me too?"

Marzia gave her boyfriend a weird glance, "Felix?"

"Don't deny it, Marzia, I'm clearly the most fabulous of the two of us!"

Mark laughed, while Jack only half smiled, which fell when he turned back to forking his salad. 

Felix turned to look at Mark, the two sharing a knowing glance. 

"If Marzia and I were to get married, I'd want to wear one of your pretty dresses, Jackaboy." The blond said. 

Jack lifted his eyes, and smirked at Felix, "Sorry, I don't think your head will fit in any kind of neckline."

This made Marzia laugh deridingly at her boyfriend. 

Jack looked at Marzia, to see that she was giving a concerned look. He shook his head and offered a smile, which she mirrored, only for him to look down at his salad again. 

 

 

"Bye guys! Bye Edgar!" Jack exclaimed before closing the door. He turned around to see Mark finishing with washing the utensils, already wiping his hands dry with a kitchen towel. 

The green-haired guy sighed in self-pity, letting himself fall back on the door behind him. Trying hard not to slide down and cry, he mustered up everything he had and stepped forward. 

_'Oh god, he's walking towards me.'_

"Mark." 

That seems to stop the guy from walking any nearer. 

"I have to tell you something." Jack said blankly. 

Mark couldn't conceal his grin, but he wad really trying hard to cover it, "Me too. Wait, is yours happy or sad?"

"Sad?"

"Ok, you first."

"Ok." He took in a breath, and then stopped, "How about yours, though?"

"My what?"

"What about your thing? Is it sad or happy."

Mark blinked, "Uhm, it depends. You go first."

Jack's hand raised to scratch the back of his head, "Erm, I--"

"Whatever you'll say, Jack, it'll be okay." Mark said, smiling in the way Tyra Banks called 'smize'. 

Jack's eyes locked with Mark's, and then Mark saw it. "I'm-I'm going back to Ireland, for-for good though, and I've got a job waiting for me there, so..." he sighed, his eyes turning glassy, "That's... that's my thing."

Mark's smile dropped from his lips, from his face, from his heart. 

That lone second between them felt like an eternity, like nothing ever mattered for the whole span of that eternity. Not the stars, not the moon, not the sun, not even the sound of Mark's heart crushing, trampled and stepped on. 

"What..." Jack asked, voice only a whisper, "What about your thing?"

Mark smiled, "Oh wow! That's really sad, Sean! Uhm, I just..." he twirled around and pointed at their coffeemaker, "We're out of coffee."

Jack blinked, looked at the direction at where his bestfriend was pointing and then chuckled, "Yeah, that's way sadder." 

It wasn't. 

Mark chuckled too, not turning around to face him, "Yeah! I told you so! So yeah," he headed to his room, "Sorry, I have to call someone."

Jack wanted to scream, to call him back, cry and hug him, tell Mark he was joking, for fuck's sake, anything to see his best friend smile. But all he could do was cringe as the door slammed shut. 

He barely noticed, but he had fallen down on the floor, on his knees, looking at Mark behind the closed door. His mouth hanging open in shock as realization dawned on him. "Fuck," he whispered, "what have I done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I break your heart? I did?
> 
> MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
> 
> No, jk jk. I didn't know what to add right after the word 'done'. Because it was originally done, finito, tapos na, and all those words synonymous to done. 
> 
> Though, if you want another chapter, please leave kudos and comment, stating your name, email address, birthday, favouritr color, and--- fuck, what did I eat for breakfast???
> 
> Do tell me what you want, even the smallest detail can spark my imagination, for examples:  
> •you want to read Marzia walking in on Felix doing that Harlem Shake vid  
> •or, have Dan and Jack out-tsundere each other, which would be kawaii desu. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'll open this fic, the chaps will be indefinite, until I lose inspo or I move on to another fandom...  
> That's depressing. Ignore that.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, do kudos if you like, and comment if you like too! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan turned to Jack, "See you at London Fashion Week?"
> 
> Jack smirked, "Count on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to tell you in the second chapter, there's a kinda reference in there and whoever guesses it, you can have half of my heart... which is not much, but still, I have to offer up something, yea?
> 
> In this chapter I shall introduce to you my self-made BroTP, uhm... Tysepticeye? Gosh, ew. No. I wrote them as roomies in one of my fics: Carry Me Down.
> 
> You read it? No?
> 
> Spoiler Alert: My queen, Tyler Oakley! 
> 
> Yas, my BroTP is Tyler and Jack. How the hell did I come up with this? Idk.
> 
> I'm an extrovert in an introverted body.
> 
> Anyway, I dunno, while I'm rambling on here, thinking of a plot, Ursula, that sea bitch, took my voice away. Fourth day of living up from the sea, I guess. And no, I have not met or will I ever meet Prince Eric, I'm effing aromantic. I give zero fucks about love, that's why I'm giving out half my heart. Lolz. And fun part is I'm using Jackaboy's sound board from the Play Store as my voice. Fun.
> 
> Without any more add-ons,
> 
> Septiplier AWAY

"Oh dear lord, Jackie, _WHY_?!" The guy cried, clutching his chest and faceplanting on the table.

Jack looked at his friend wearily, staring at the mop of pastel purple head. "Tyler..."

Tyler lifted his head and stared at his friend, "Well, I guess saying 'I'll leave for Ireland' before you could ever say 'I love ya mate' is, in a sick twisted way, better..." He drawled. 

Silence settled between the two.

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but he gets cut off when Tyler emitted a resigned groan into the table. 

The purple-haired guy then exclaimed, "Seriously, though. What the absolute fuck, Jack?"

A girl came over their table, her cellphone clutched in her fist. She had a huge grin on her face, "Um, excuse me?" She said, "Aren't you Jack - the fashion designer on Instagram - Jack?"

He blinked, then gave her a friendly smile. "Yeah, I am."

She turned to Tyler, "And you're the guy on the cover of YT Fashion Acad Magazine." (Would I dare choose which fashion magazine to put in the story? No, but I'm a Teen Vogue kinda girl ;))

Tyler beamed, "Well, yes I am!"

"Can I have a selfie with you guys?"

 

 

Felix entered Marzia's closet room, and found her combing her large fur coat. "Hey, Marzia?"

"Yeaaaah?" 

He raised his phone, as she twirled around to face him, "Markimoo's not answering my texts, and my calls go straight to voicemail. Know anything about that?"

She blinked, "No?"

"I think I'll swing by his place real quick, want me to get you anything on the way home?" 

She shook the comb in her hand, reprimandingly, "Don't take Mark in a bar in the middle of the day, Felix."

He gave a face, "Why would I do that? I'm just checking if he's boning Jack already."

"He can't be boning Jack," Marzia said simply, turning back to her task, "Sean's going to his school to get his requirements fixed, so he can fly back to Ireland."

"What."

"What?" Marzia was surprised, twirling around to face her boyfriend again.

"Jack Potato's flying back to Ireland?"

Marzia's eyes went wide, "You don't know?"

"What don't I know?"

"That Jack's flying back to Ireland, for good?"

Felix's hands went up to his hair, almost tearing them off his scalp. "What the hell, Marzia?! I told Mark to 'fess up to Jack!"

 

 

Five minutes later, blazing through detours to escape getting pulled over, Felix ran up the apartment stairs while Marzia parked the car.

"Run faster, Marzia!"

"I'm trying!"

"Dammit, woman, our friend might be in trouble and you choose to wear high heels?!"

"You took my fur coat!" She retorted.

The two skidded through the hallway, silently cursing the management for not using carpeting. Felix grabbed Marzia's small wrist and pulled her as they turned a sharp corner, saving her from floppping down unfabulously. 

When they got in front Mark and Jack's apartment, there was a sad thought as they thought of this, Felix's fists came down the door, banging on it, any harder it would have been smothered into splinters. 

What stupid thing could Mark do? What can't he do? He's got the whole apartment to himself now, technically.

"Mark!" Felix pleaded. "Mark Fischbach, I swear to glob, I will CPR the life back into you if you don't open the door!" His heavy pounding does not cease when Marzia's hand came up to grab his shoulder, a silent announcement that a neighbor had came to spy at them. But the blond ignored it, "Mark! MARK! Please!"

"Guys?"

The two twirled around to see the source of the voice, only to be shocked that Mark was staring at them weirdly, coming from the direction of the flight of stairs

Marzia sobbed as she ran towards him, capturing him in a hug.

Felix slid down the floor, softly glaring at Mark.

Utter confusion showed on Mark's face. 

Why are Felix and Marzia ramming his door down, and doing it while so expensively dressed?

Mark opened his mouth to question their acts, Felix cut him.

"Why the hell weren't you answering your phone, Mark?" The blond question.

Mark looked down at the thing he got with him, then looked at Felix. "My phone died while I was taking a walk around town." He pointed at his apartment door, "Why are you murdering my door?"

"W-we thought..." Marzia started, "y-you would do something unnecessary after being devasted with Sean." The girl cried into his chest.

From where Felix sat, he could see Mark cringe and frown at the word 'Sean', as if it was a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Where the fuck did you go off to, dickbag?" Felix demanded.

Mark lifted the leash in his right hand, the look on his face almost as if the sun was shining so brightly again. The way his eyes fell on the thing on the other side of the leash was as loving as the way he looked at Jack, "I adopted a dog from the local shelter."

 

 

"Heya Jack." Greeted Dan Howell as he approached his classmate. "How's tricks?"

Jack offered a friendly smile, "Could be better, mate."

Dan's eyes scanned the whole lobby, scrutinizing every face before sitting down with Jack on the comfy couch.

Jack saw this, and decided to ask on it, "Who you lookin' for?"

"Just this model, name's Phil Lester." He finally turned to face Jack, "He's serving as my muse." 

"Exams just finished not eight days ago with your 'Emo' collection featured front pave of the school magazine, and you're already at it with a pen and paper?" The green-haired guy chided.

Dan chuckled, "Well, you know what they say, 'Don't cry, --'"

"'Craft!'" Exclaimed a new voice.

Both classmates turned and saw a tall raven haired guy in a cactus sweater, black jeans and a pair of maroon Doc Martens boots.

The guy flinched, abashed, his hands went up to cover his mouth, and then his cheeks, "I-I'm so sorry! That was really rude of me! I shouldn't have done that-- cutting into other people's conversations."

"People don't say that." Jack told the guy.

The guy blinked in confusion, "What?"

Jack shifted his body to face him, "People don't say 'Don't cry, craft!'"

Dan looked at his classmate, "They do." He Dan pointedly.

The other guy looked at Jack too, "Yeah, they do!"

Jack raised his hands up in defence, "Oh my god, don't gang up on me!"

"I'm sorry, but," the guy said, "I'm Phil Lester, and my agent dumped me here and told me to find, uhm, Dan Howell?"

Jack's hand clamped on Dan's shoulder, "This is the guy you're looking for."

Dan turned to Jack, "See you at London Fashion Week?"

Jack smirked, "Count on it."

Just as Dan and Phil went up the stairs to Dan's studio. Dan had been asked to teach a short summer course in the academy, good for him.

"Oh my gosh, was that Phil fucking Lester?!" Tyler questioned as he patted his hands dry on his pants.

Jack turned to look at his friend, "It takes you as long as a girl at the toilet."

Tyler pouted, "I ain't as perf as Beyonce, bitch."

 

 

It felt so _off_ being in Mark and Jack's apartment all of a sudden. 

Even though there's a new tenant in the apartment, it wasn't the dog that threw the atmosphere off. 

Mark was in the kitchen making coffee for Felix and Marzia while he was silently talking to his new dog.

Suddenly the dog howled, gave a complaining moan and padded to the living room and facepalmed itself on Marzia's knee.

Felix turned to look at Mark, and saw that the guy was coming their way with four cups of coffee. "Hey, even the dog knows something's wrong." He told his friend, not even questioning the fourth cup of coffee.

"Her name's Chica."

"Cool." Felix commented, reaching out to pat Chica on the head. 

Silence lingered in the room like the smell of rotten cheese and no one's bothering to throw it out.

It was too awkward, unlike their friendly lunch date yesterday. 

Felix took a cup of coffee, and pressed the porcelain to his lips, hiding his frown. Marzia followed him, but her actions looked desperate, eyes flitting up occasionally to check at Mark, almost afraid that if she did something wrong, Mark would get mad at her.

Behind his Hello Kitty cup, Felix stared at his girlfriend, using telepathy to tell her to break the painful silence.

Marzia barely lifted the cup if coffee to her mouth. "Mark," she started, her tone almost pleading.

"Please Marzia, not now." Mark whispered harshly.

Felix cringed behind his cup. That wasn't what he meant.

 

 

 

 

 

In twenty-six minutes, the three of them were sitting on the couch, playing SSB4, two large boxes of pizza on the coffee table in front them while supporting mugs of coffee on their laps; their arrangement was Felix, Mark, Marzia, and Chica resting her head on Marzia's foot.

No one cared when someone made the other two slide across the screen, or when Felix won. No one peeped a sound since Marzia ordered pizza, or complained when Mark paused the game abruptly to go pee.

As Mark's ass cheeks touched the couch, the two turned to him and enveloped him in a tangle of arms.

"Guys, I'm--"

"Let it out, Mark. Let it out." Felix whispered, while Marzia patted his shoulder.

And just like that, Mark broke open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly do not like what's happening at the end part, I feel like the entire thing's fast and really underdeveloped. 
> 
> Next chapter will be dedicated to Dawnieangel76 whose comment help mould (did I spell that right?) this chap. Boo, if you're reading this, the deets you gave me are not abandoned, they inspired me~~ 
> 
> My writing process drains me tbh, I have to immerse myself in depressing love quotes and listening to Troye Sivan's Blue Neighborhood album. But I'd jump in the dark hole in the next chapter, I will make it as depressing as I can, will the fourth chapter end in a good way or a bad way? Hmmm...
> 
> Idk, I didn't plan the story. Well, actually, I kinda did but my idea is so farfetched I dunno how to string it together. You'll see in the next chapter.
> 
> I dunno how many chapters this would be, but I estimate under 6? 5 to 6?
> 
> I'm lost...
> 
> HAHAHAHAHAHA!
> 
> Those who are lost are directionless, they haven't pulled out their smartphones yet.
> 
> Shrewd advice, yea?
> 
> Have a good week guys!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! You have survived 3 chapters of a fluff oneshot Tumblr prompt that turned into an angsty multichap. 
> 
> I really love this fandom, like this is the most welcoming fandom I've ever had the fortune to join, not that the other fandoms aren't welcoming, its the matter of superlatives, ya know?
> 
> Anyway, new characters enter the playing field.
> 
> Introducing Miranda Sings and iisuperwomanii!
> 
> Yas.
> 
> What did I eat for breakfast when I wrote this? Nutella, muda-effing Nutella.
> 
> Talking about Nutella, have you seen Troye Sivan's cute yandere song 'We're My OTP'?
> 
> You haven't? Check it!
> 
> It's totes adorbs.
> 
> Anyway, the character here will be Miranda Sings, not Colleen - PsychoSoprano - Colleen. So Miranda's last name will be Sings, it'll be epic, believe me.
> 
> Just too remind you, I'm making this up as we go. I'm really scared when I don't have too much of a plan. Like life... glob dammit ~~#hugotlines~~.
> 
> I'm chatty right now cause it's been a week of Ursula prancing around, singing with MY voice, like seriously, hoe, where my voice at?
> 
> I need to buy duct tape for my mouth... Or I mean thumbs? Whichever is politically correct. nvm, it took a nine days to get my voice back
> 
> Another note, I didn't do research yet, I don't know if fashion schools end at September, but honestly, according to my past research, the September issue of any fashion publication is the most important of all issues, because the September issue shows the majority of womenswear [Fashion Weeks](fashionweekonline.com/schedule). So September is the groundwork for what's to expect on trends that stayed in the year.
> 
> No more shit outta me.
> 
> Septiplier AWAY!

Tyler stopped walking at the sight of his colleague, Marzia Bisognin, an Italian girl who had an affinity for cute things, she's always the go-to model for adorable fashion, while Tyler was more of the hipster side. They aren't really close friends and not because they're see each other as competition, they aren't in each others orbit and their schedules are different, its a wonder why they even saw each other today.

Tyler smiled and waved at her just as she exit the changing room wearing a taller than life stilleto heels and see-through organza maxi skirt with decent-coverage.

Miranda would never let her models walk down any runway with their bums exposed or their boobs splayed with black scotch tape. Lilly is more okay with it, but Miranda always gets the last say.

"Where ya off to?" He called before the Italian girl went off to the hallway. 

"Photoshoot, for the September issue." She replied.

Suddenly, there was a screech, the muffled sound of Miranda screaming, and the soft sobs of a girl as she ran off to the exit, her Yves Saint Laurent handbag clutched to her chest.

Confused, Marzia and Tyler shared a look of concern.

And that looked deepened when they saw Lilly stomping towards Miranda's office, her heeled Converse clacking on the tiled floor.

 

 

 

Singh & Sings is the top fashion house in this side of of the world. Headed by co-CEOs Lilly Singh and Miranda Sings, the two friends had joined forces and pursued fashion careers. They were a force to be reckoned with: Lilly's confidence and strong personality, and Miranda's determination and beautiful designs, they took the industry by storm, others might say it was an overnight successs.

Within five years, the two friends had their own fashion lines and had taken in other fashion designers into their house.

 

 

_Knock knock knock._

"Who is it?" Came Miranda's nasally tone.

After a lifetime of being friends with the girl, Lilly knew how pissed off the girl truly was.

"It's Lilly." She said, putting her hand on her waist, the other hand ready to knock the fuck out of the white door that separated her from her friend.

"Which Lilly?" Miranda questioned with the same sarcastic friendly tone.

"Pulitzer." Lilly replied under her breath in resignation. (Lilly Pulitzer is a preppy brand famous for making that dress for First Lady Jackie O with curtain fabric.) "It's Lilly Singh."

"It's open." Miranda replIed quietly.

Lilly owned the door, and entered the girl's office.

Miranda's office was a wide space open-floor plan with floor-to-ceiling window. It served more of a private lobby than an executive office. There were Lilly Pulitzer prints on the big wall, gingham prints on throw pillows, and houndstooth prints on the carpet. Interior decorating in this place is really wratched, but it overwhelms them and inspires them.

Lilly found her friend standing by the desk, looking down the window. "Yo, you okay, boo?"

Miranda had a frown on her face, well, more deeper than her usual frown. She didnt glance up to see her friend, "That hoe tried to poison me."

Lilly stopped, her heart almost dropped. "Oh my god." She knew that Miranda was an odd girl, and people tend to undermine her to the point of ridicule. Others had threatened her, but... this was new.

Lilly's hand was already twitching down to dig her phone out her pants pocket, ready to dial the police, ready to call security to have the CCTV footage of that girl who ran off.

Miranda finally looked up at her friend, "She gave me Starbucks, Lilly."

Lilly stared at her with an unreadable look, and then--

"WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK, MIRANDA!"

Miranda heaved, "Ugh, I _hate_ coffee so much, like are you keeden' me? Why does it taste like poison? It's so ewwy and gross."

Lilly raised a hand to press to her forehead, or else it wouldn't be her own forehead she'd be slapping. "Ohhhh my god, Miranda." She looked at the girl, "Are you mental?" 

Miranda's eyes were wide, Lilly's accent was coming out, she is pissed like heck.

"Girl, I thought your assistant was literally going to poison you!" 

Uh oh, the hand gestures are out too.

"Like, I was this close to calling the Health department to get a fudging antidote to cure the shiz out of you! But you just fired your third assistant this month because she got you _Starbucks_?! _STARBUCKS?!_ "

Miranda shrugged her shoulders. "It's icky."

"GAHHH!" Lilly yelled in resignation.

 

 

The whole office was on stand-by for two hours, completely confused, unable to function without Lilly overlooking them.

So Marzia and Tyler took seats in the lounge, chilling and watching the other models and photographers wander around like ghosts.

"Its so pitiful that the company is just sitting ducks, we're so uselesss without Lilly." Tyler commented.

Marzia hummed in agreement.

"And the other designers couldn't be bothered with, they're too busy with the upcoming Fashion Week." He shifts his leg in his seat.

"Whatever could've happened to Miranda's assistant though?" Marzia asked, "If I remember correctly, that was her fourth assistant this month."

"Mm, no honey," Tyler said. "The other one was a girl in HR."

Suddenly, their phones beeped almost at the same time. The two models fished their phones out and saw the announcement from _Singh & Sings_.

It was an Instagram video. 

Miranda's face took the whole screen, but as the girl twirled around, one could see a very cross Lilly with her arms folded over her chest behind Miranda.

 _"Hey guys!"_ Miranda's signature bold red lips made it easy to ignore Lilly's cameo, _"Singh & Sings is hiring for two positions."_ She held up three fingers, and then changed it to two. _"HR and PA, but HR is dumb so nevermind, if interested, mail in your resume. You are immediately hired if I lick you."_

Tyler's brow furrowed in discomfort, "'If I lick you?'"

"Its her accent." Marzia told him.

"Oh, okay then."

_"You should be ack-track-tive and lickable, because I don't like unlickable people. Byeeee!"_

"This is perfect!" Tyler almost yelled in joy, and then he pressed his phone too his lips.

"Sean can apply." Marzia whispered happily down at her phone, her thumb already opening her messenger app.

Phone still on his mouth, Tyler glanced at Marzia. And then he lowered his phone to his chin. "Uhm, what?" He told her.

She looked up, offering a smile, "My friend, Sean, he needs a job to stay here."

Tyler narrowed his eyes at her, "Why?"

"Or he'll get deported, his student visa is about to lapse."

Tyler hummed suspiciously. Oh _heeeeell_ no.

He jumped out his seat and headed out to the hallway. "'Scuse you, I need to make a call."

Marzia stared after him in confusion, "What?"

"Nothing." He muttered dismissively. 

He knew his friend needed this job more, his love life is in jeopardy, and Tyler is an advocate of love, he will not lose that position to that Italian girl.

 

 

"Jackie!" Tyler exclaimed as soon as the other line picked up.

" _What the fook, Tyler?! You woke me from a nap!"_ The Irishman lightly scolded.

"I would apologize, but I don't give a fuck, cause, honey, I think I just have a solution to your predicament!"

" _I swear, Tyler, if you got me a job as a male stripper, I will--_ "

"No no, it's better, I swear. You could at least extend your stay by one year if you work here."

Jack kept quiet, "Where is 'here' exactly?"

"Singh & Sings!"

"But that's off-campus!"

"No it's not! Singh & Sings is affiliated with YT! You know Louise Pentland?"

"Yeah, I saw her during the fashion show, she's close friends with Zoe Sugg, yeah?"

"Yes! And she stayed for three years here as a fashion designer and proffessor at YT!"

Jack was eerily quiet in the other line, "But..."

"Don't you fucking 'but' me, mister! You have been pining after Mark Edward all your three years here and it hurts my fangirl heart how the two of you aren't married yet! Like, effing three years, Jackie! And you live with him!"

"But... but I want to go home..." Jack muttered so timidly.

Tyler's jaw fell, unable to come up with a reply. He completely ignored what Jack had been doing for the past week. His body language, his gestures. How his eyes lit up when he talked about his sister getting him a job back in Ireland, in _Ireland_. And all Tyler did was dismiss him and shove his love for Mark down his throat. How could he be so inconsiderate?

"O-oh my god..." He slid down the wall he was leaning on.

Jack sobbed "I-I miss me mum so much, I miss my sisters and me brothers, and-and... I do love Mark, but-but I..." The guy was crying in the other line, it broke Tyler's heart. How could he do this? Ignore his friend and dismiss his homsickness.

He pushed his glasses up his hair, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

It hurt so much to hear his friend cry, it was so unlike Jack. 

He pulled his glasses back to his face, "Shhh shhh, there there, Jack, it's okay. I'm so sorry. I'm such a crappy friend, I've been ignoring what you've been implying. And you're such a great friend, you didn't call me out for being shit to you."

"I--"

"It's okay, I'm sorry, Jack, I'm so so sorry..." He sighed in relief when he heard his friend put the phone down and wipe his tears. "Come on, hun, you wouldn't want Mark to hear you cry and come to your room to investigate." He chided.

"I..." Jack stared weakly, "I'm not in the apartment."

Tyler's brows furrowed in puzzlement, "Wait what?" He stood up, "You're still in the studio?"

"Y-yeah."

"Why?"

"I can't-- I can't face him right now, Tyler."

 

 

 

"He's a graduate from YT and he's got good working ethic."

Lilly raised a brow. "'He?'"

"Does he like coffee?" Miranda questioned.

Marzia nodded, "Yeah."

Miranda threw her hands up in resignation. "I'm not hiring another Starbucks!"

Lilly glanced.at her friend, "Why don't you meet him first though? You never know, you could convert him into anti-caffiene-ism."

Miranda frowned in contemplation, and then pointed at Marzia, "If he's squitchy..."

Marzia gave her a smile, "You'd like him, I promise."

 

 

 

It was only ten blocks, and he needed to shower.

Yeah.

Jack decided he needed to go to the apartment. He needed to go back _home._

The home where he shared memories with his best friend. That cramp apartment with the small kitchen where infinity loads of pancakes had been made and consumed. That serene sound the coffeemaker makes in the early morning the sun's rays hit the island counter as Jack wait for the pot to fill, and then Mark comes out in just his pajama buttons and they have light-hearted banters. 

Oh god.

He can't.

He can't leave Mark now.

What was his life like before Mark sashayed in it? What will it be like without hearing his bestfriend deep bass voice to rouse him from sleep?

But he already gave his "yes" to that position as an assistant in Ireland. He doesn't dare tell them he changed his mind all because of someone he loves.

He entered the apartment and instantly saw the two boxes of pizza on the coffee table in the quaint living room. 

He closed the door behind him and dropped the keys in the bowl. He saw that Mark's keys were in there too, so he must be at home. 

That's a good thing. He haven't actually used his phone ever since yesterday. He ran out the apartment and acute himself in his studio, only packing and repacking his boxes and poking each of his mannequins with a pin. And foodwise, he ordered Chinese and pulled a stool to the window to wistfully look down the street, unconsciously wishing that Mark would appear out the corner and scream up at him, demanding he stay. 

God, his phone felt useless when he didn't receive any notifications of Mark sending him cute animal videos.

"Mark?" He called approaching the boxes of pizza, "can we please talk?" He opened it and hovered his hand over it.

Ah, it's cold.

He twisted around when he heard the door to Mark's room open. 

The room was pitch black. Not even the window was cracked open to let even a sliver of natural light in.

He opened his mouth to say something witty to his bestfriend, but it turned into a confused frown when a cream-coloured Labrador Retriever padded out and went to the kitchen.

"Wait, what?"

And then Mark finally exit his room. 

Jack could've easily ignored it, but the fact that he had practically _craned_ his neck to see through the darkness, to look for his bestfriend, made him see it. And how it broke his heart.

The guy wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms, looking down, a small moment to avoid looking Jack in the eye.

When Mark finally looked up, Jack's heart fell down.

He gave a small, assurring smile, one that said, "I'm alright" when he clearly is not. 

They were not alright. Nothing was alright. Their situation was fucked up. 

"I--" Mark spoke, he stifled his cringe when his voice croaked. "I'll make you dinner. Have you eaten already?" He dodged when their shoulders nearly collided, quickly making his way to the kitchenette.

"I haven't..." Jack said, his voice drawling to an unsettling quiet, trailing behind his bestfriend and taking a seat by the island counter. 

Mark somehow got every ingredients from the the cupboards with minimal effort. 

There was no patting and fumbling at the cupboard for the flour, when Mark tends to pull it down and shower himself with it. And the refrigerator door that always sounded like a steel grate that rattled like the it was hell's door, opened with uncomfortable silence.

Mark got all the ingredients. Minimal effort.

And in that minimal effort, Mark managed not to turn to show his face to Jack.

And that made Jack want to scream. Scream at his bestfriend, scream at the world, scream at anyone and anything, just to tell Mark how sorry he was. 

And reassure him,

"Mark, I love --"

Mark's fist came down on the kitchen surface, making Jack flinch in his seat.

He took in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and shaking. He snapped to Jack, without looking at him, and said, "Don't. Just... don't."

Jack wanted to claw his heart out. His heart was literally feeling physical pain, it felt heavy, like it was an anchor that pulled down his lungs, making it extremely hard to breathe.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He quickly grabbed it and exitted the apartment. 

 

 

"H-hello?" He asked as soon as he swiped 'answer' and pressed his phone to his ear.

 _"Hi, Sean."_ Came Marzia's voice, which sounded tired. _"Is this a bad time?"_

He blinked wearily at the cream colored wall of the hallway, then at the potted fern to his right, guarding the apartment door. 

"No, it's actually good timing." He told her, if she believed him, good. Because he didn't believe himself. Any form of distraction was helpful. Anything to alleviate the pain.

 _"I wanted to help,"_ She told him, _"so I refered you to my modeling company, b-but--"_ she sniffed, _"they already hired someone, and you...I'm sorry, Sean."_

He ended the call. 

His hand went up to press his fist to his forehead. He shouldn't have lied to her, how hard was it to say "Sorry, not now, please"? He could've saved her from the embarassment, from being rudely cut off. And from himself from lying and feeling monumentally worst about himself.

He went back in the apartment, the door clicking close behind him. Looking at his bestfriend, he sees that the guy was silently whisking the batter.

Jack didn't peep a sound, he went to his own room, trying very hard not to kick the door down. Just as the flipped the light switch, his brows furrowed.

He turned back to look at Mark, and,

"Mark, why are there boxes in my room?"

Mark gave a resigned heave, throwing his head back, and then looking down at the mixing bowl. "God, I ruined it the batter with my tears." He muttered to himself.

"Mark?"

The guy finally turned around to look at Jack, his cheeks stained with a sheen of tears. And then he opened his mouth,

"I'm not..." he stopped, "I'm ready for you to go. I've wrapped my head around the fact that you'll leave for Ireland, that you'll be happy in your new job, and I probably won't see you anymore, or at all."

Jack stared at him in disbelief.

And Mark kept going, "You've been a great part in my life, and I can't imagine going through a day without you in it, you green Irish prick." He offered a smile, a painful one.

"Mark," he pleaded, "Don't do this to me." 

Mark dropped his chin to his chest, "I'm sorry, Sean..."

Jack walked forward, rounded the island counter and grabbed his bestfriend by the collar. "You shut your mouth." He whispered harshly at him.

"Please don't forget me and all the great things we did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos to my bestriend who told me to make Mark cry over the batter. I was like "hey boo, I'm stumped, I'm writing this part and I don't know what to do"
> 
> and she was like "make Mark ruin the pancake mix"
> 
> and I don't know how she knew I was writing he was cooking, because, I did not tell her that. we're soulmates, that must be it.
> 
>  
> 
> so, I kinda edited it, like you barely could notice it. but i edited.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> what happens now?
> 
>  
> 
> have a great week you beautiful souls!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'From: Dan Howell-Lester
> 
>  _Awesome show, mate._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really unrelated to the story but,
> 
> have you seen Ninja Sex Party's new song 'Cool Patrol'?
> 
> I swear when I was watching it I was asking "how deep I the internet am I?"
> 
> watch it if you haven't.
> 
>  
> 
> and if you have, can you smell the fanfiction in the air? its coming.
> 
>  
> 
> now...
> 
>  
> 
> read AWAY!

Jack opened his eyes as he felt the warm ray of sunlight piercing through the drapes hit his face.

He followed the soft light to its source and saw the curtains he left open last night.

It was raining very hard yesterday evening, it's a wonder why the sun even showed itself today.

He narrowed his eyes, he suddenly felt tired.

Yesterday had been extremely hectic. And Jack knew he had fallen asleep to get away from the stress that came with the chaos.

He shifted his eyes to look around the room.

Everything felt different and familiar at the same time. 

Oh.

That's right.

The year had passed by so fast. 

His schedule had been so packed with booking models, canceling appointments, and traveling across Europe for shows.

But now, he was back in his own house. Resting. Which he owed himself.

He pulled himself up to sit, throwing his legs to the side of the bed and just staring at his carpet blankly.

After a few minutes of contemplative silence, he stood up and exitted the room.

 

 

"Pancakes for breakfast." He muttered to himself as he entered the kitchen.

As he rounded the island counter, which was towering with gifts and bouquets of flowers, he went to the coffeemaker and started it.

He yawned into his hand and blinked wearily at the coffeemaker.

Glancing to the island counter, he saw a shimmery black gift box and instantly knew who it was from, but he had a few minutes to spare before pouring himself a wake-up call, so he read the gift tag.

'From: Dan Howell-Lester

 _Awesome show, mate._ '

Oh yeah, Dan married that model from two years ago. It was a beautiful wedding in Japan. Zoe had pulled out haute couture tuxedos from her highly-acclaimed fasion line _Zoella_ , and dressed the two grooms. Like, never did Jack think Dan Howell would wear any other color than black, much less China white.

Only the grooms' family and closest friends had been invited, and Jack felt so honored to be included in the private wedding.

Decidedly, he opened the box, on the inside of the lid was Dan's iconic doodled cat whiskers. His fashion insignia.

Inside the box was a black envelope clutch.

Jack smiled at it.

Between him, Dan and Zoe, the three had sent each other items from their own collections, a way of friendly advertising. There's nothing as admirable as posting clothes on Instagram and captioning it as ' _gift from friend @danisnotwearingblack, wearing it to red carpet next week :)'._

He put the gift back on the counter and reached up the cupboard for a mug.

Struggling, he stood on his tiptoes, but to no avail.

"Here you go."

Suddenly, he felt a warm, broad chest on his back, and a tan arm reached for a Mr Meeseks mug.

As the mug was pressed to his hands, he twirled around and was face-to-face with Mark, his hair damp from the shower.

The man smiled at him, radiating with pride and adoration. "Top of the morning to ya, sweetheart."

Jack grinned and pressed their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they still together?!
> 
> what?
> 
> nah, of course they are. :)  
>  
> 
> Raise hands, who here honestly wanted to slap the beeheezus out of me?
> 
> Mm hm... yeah... five... six... eighty-nine.... err... yup, that's the whole fandom.
> 
>  
> 
> lol, I actually wrote this chapter before the emotional part of the last part. I couldn't write emotional parts for the life of me, it drains me, but at least this cleared out the evilness and the bastard-streak off my soul. Like my friend literally slapped me. Physical, physical pain. It hurt, but I'm a freak and I laughed at my own pain. Like, seriously, I wonder why I even have friends.
> 
> Oh, come on.
> 
> You honestly think I would leave you beautiful people in such a cliffhanger? No. I will break my arms twice to get you up from there. Like, seriously.
> 
> Mark and Jack didn't even kiss! in the last chapter at least. Because they kissed in this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> KEEP ON WAITING, BECAUSE THIS WILL HAVE SIX CHAPTERS! I haven't actually figured the last part, but I promise you, it will be happy times. Not sexytimes, no, I am not the person for that. 
> 
> This is about fashion, this is my element. You will have fashion. And it will be good... I hope.
> 
> Ah, gosh.
> 
> Please comment below on who was honestly emotionally destroyed because of the last chapter, I wouldn't recommend kudos, because 'PUNCH AUTHOR IN THE FACE' isn't down there... yet.
> 
> And, I am utterly and genuinely sorry for that emotional roller coaster. Like, believe me, I seriously wrote this chapter before the former one. 
> 
> Ok, I have to shut up now.
> 
>  
> 
> BTW, if you want to curse at me I'm on Tumblr! butterkiller-blog.tumblr.com  
> No, nobody question my name.
> 
>  
> 
> See you in the next chapter
> 
> have a great week you beautiful people!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last installment.
> 
>  
> 
> I edited this chap, because apparently 'hate' was autocorrected as 'haha'. Any wrong things, please tell me.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: We don't hate Burberry Prorsum.
> 
> Septiplier AWAY!

"You WHAT?!" Jack exclaimed angrily into his phone.

 _"Sorry, Jackie, but the agency relocated us before we could even have a say."_ Tyler told him.

Jack ran a hand through his green hair, fingers twitching in anger. He was _this_ close to tearing his hair off. He heaved heavily, "What did Marzia say about this?"

_"Here, you can talk to her."_

There was the sound of shuffling and heels clacking, the phone was passed with a light worried whisper between the two models. And Marzia's voice was on the other line. 

_"Sean?"_

"Is there no substitute for you two?" He questioned, voice suddenly weary. 

He could hear the frown on her voice, _"We are substitutes ourselves, Sean. Cara Delevine and one of the male Top models had a physical injury apparently."_

"Wait, you two are opening?"

_"We're not. But... yeah, the agency keep ignoring us."_

Jack heaved again. 

You'd think after five years in the business, one could secure respect and security. But five years is nothing, Jack's still a newbie.

He should have entered CFDA's Fashion Fund, forget going head to head with Zoe Sugg, winning the Fund would gain him respect and prestige. But no, he respected Zoe too much. And she won.

He could've won.

He believes.

If he entered the fucking contest.

And Dan Howell has _tenure_ in YT.

Jack was alone in the fashion world.

"Focking Burberry Prorsum." He muttered under his breath.

 _"We're really sorry, Sean."_ Marzia whispered.

He sighed, "No, it's quite alright. Listen, I'll call you tomorrow again, okay?"

_"Bye Sean." "Bye Jackie!"_

He let his phone drop on the bed as he let himself crumple down the carpeted floor.

He's missing two models, and he doesn't have anyone to open his show. He could edit and pull out outfits from his collection...

No.

He can't, he promised twenty looks for the runway.

And he refuses to let just anyone to open for him.

Why does he got to be picky?

Suddenly he heard Mark's footsteps out the hallway, followed by Chica scuffling behind him. The door opened and Chica rushed in and was nipping at Jack's hair.

"Nuuuuu! Chica, stoooop!" He said, reaching his hands out to scratch the dog behind the ear.

"Oh hey, Jack!" Mark greeted happily, looking down at him like it was normal occurence to see Jack on the floor.

Jack grinned lazily up at him, lovingly "Heya, Mark."

"What's... down?" Mark questioned, shedding of his jacket and drawing it on the bed.

"I lost Tyler and Marzia to Burberry." He told him with a pitiful sigh.

Mark plopped down, indian squatted beside him. "Oh," he said, "So... what are you gonna do?" He asked, running his fingers through Jack's hair.

"I don't fucking know." The Irishman muttered, taking Mark's hand and putting it over his face. "I'm so burning all my Burberry coats in a bonfire." He grumbled, eliciting a deep chuckle out of his boyfriend, making him smile into Mark's hand.

They stayed like that for a minute or two, just basking in each others presence.

When suddenly, Mark's phone sounded, and he dug it out from his pocket with his free hand. "Hey," he told Jack, "who's Singh & Sings?"

Mark's hand twitched when he felt Jack's eyelashes under his palm.

"They're a fashion house back in the US. YT is associated to them."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"They just tweeted that they're coming to London to watch one of their promising alumni."

Jack used Mark's hand to slap his own forehead, "Fockin' balls on a stick!" 

Mark raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that not a good thing?"

"It is not an entirely good thing!" Jack yelled at the ceiling, "That just has me raise the fucking standard for my show, innit?" He threw his hand up in exasperation, "Why does life like to fuck me over?"

"It's because you're a very handsome man." Mark answered smugly.

Jack glared at him with narrowed eyes, "You're lucky you're cute."

Mark smiled triumphantly at that. "Anyway, are you still going to send that invite to Felix? He might want to go to Marzia's instea--"

"Holy shit!" Jack yelled, jolting up from the floor.

"Wha-hut?" Mark stuttered in astonishment.

Jack faced him, eyes sparkling. "FELIX!"

 

 

 

_"What?! No!"_

"Please, Felix!" Mark said. "Marzia and Tyler had been transferred to Burberry without prior notice so Jack's short on models. He doesn't want anyone to open his show with a stranger, and he had this bright idea that you should open it, and it would make it all the more special."

Felix fell silent in the other end, and then asked, _"Am I gonna wear a dress?"_

Mark blinked, looking across the hall, to the living room where Jack was on his own phone, calling in special favours of his own. At least Jack was feeling better than he did on the carpet ten minutes ago. "I don't think so, no." He told the blond.

Felix huffed petulantly, _"I demanded to wear a dress made by Jack Potato, anything else is non-negotiable."_

Mark crossed the hallway, phone still pressed to his ear, listening to Felix rant about a dress he had been dreaming of wearing since he was just pretty little girl. Ignoring the last part, Mark entered the living room, interrupting his boyfriend's call. He handed Jack the phone and whispered, "Felix refuses to wear anything but a dress for the show."

Jack frowned in annoyance. He muttered "I'll call you back, thanks." to his own phone before taking Mark's. Clutching it in one hand, Jack went over to the coffee table and opened one of the portfolios, leafing through it, and then took a picture of a drawing then sent it, he then pressed the phone to his ear. "I just sent you a pic, you feeble twat."

Jack could hear Felix inspect the drawing and hum in appreciation. _"Acceptable." He commented in a superior tone._

"Now, will you open the show for me?"

_"I get to keep what I'm wearing, right?"_

 

 

 

Tyler was walking towards the bathroom, nose pointing down on his phone as he was going through his Instagram, and then Tyler abruptly stopped. 

The stage director wasn't looking where she was walking, as she herself was on her tablet, and collided unto his back.

"What's the hold up?" Questioned the woman, silently thanking herself for wearing flats that day.

Suddenly, Tyler turned around on his heels and ran to the make up room.

 

 

"Marzia! Have you seen this?" Tyler demanded as he pushed the curtain divider open, exposing a girl who was wearing her bra. 

The girl gave a pointed huff, and Tyler raised his hand at her and said, "Please, girl. I've seen better." And he proceeded to find for his friend. "Marzia!"

He finally finds her in the makeup room, being used as a makeup guinea pig, Patrick Starr, the show's makeup artist applying a nude eye makeup on her lid.

Tyler trudged up to her seat like a man on a mission, and then thrusted the phone in front her face.

The girl pulled away at first in surprise. She looked up and saw Tyler, but a very determined scowl on his face. So she looked down on his phone again

"Is-is that Felix?" She questioned, "Felix backstage in a fashion show?"

 

 

 

 

They were in the venue of the event, some guys were setting up the seats and decorations and lighting for the show tomorrow.

In the background was the experimental catwalk music that will be played during the show.

The dry run of the chronological order of the models had been done an hour before, but some people stayed behind.

"So all I have to do is walk like I'm a fucking robot?" Felix questioned from the start of the runway as he walked comically stiff.

The catwalk coach gave an incredulous look towards Jack.

Jack couldn't hide the amused smirk on his face, "Yeah, but walk like Optimus Prime, put some finesse in it."

The catwalk coach agreed with a nod. 

Felix placed his hands on his hips and wiggled his left foot out. "What if I just walk like Mettaton? You know, from Undertale?"

"You could," Jack told his friend in contemplation, humoring him, "but then we'd have to cut your arms off."

Felix immediately hugged himself tight, "I'm good with Optimus Prime, thanks."

 

 

 

 

Mark was at the back door, waiting for Wade, Bob, Molly and Amanda. Jack was considerate enough to let Mark wait for them at the back door since they -- Mark included -- didn't find the appeal of walking on the red carpet and have cameras burn their corneas, espacially so when Jack needed a hand to hold.

"What the heck, Miranda? Why can't we pass by the front door like normal people?" Questioned an Indian woman as she took off her plaid jacket and tied it around her waist. 

Another woman, though in a bright red coat and bold red lip to boot gave her a look, "Ew, no!" She cried. "The paparazzi would be smothering me up the moon again. And you know how they like to cause me drama!"

The two went up the steps and paused when they saw him.

"Are you the bouncer?" Questioned the Indian woman, while the red lipstick woman gave him a disgusted look.

Mark blinked dumbly, "Uhm, no?"

"Good." Said thr lipstick woman, 'Miranda' if Mark remembered correctly. "Because the designer knows us, but we lost our admittance in the... what you call 'cabbie'?"

Mark stepped back and let the women in. They seem important enough to know where they were going. Mark didn't see the guest list, so he's at sea.

Miranda entered first, walking sluggishly, into the small hall that led to the backstage. "Lilly, let's see if Colleen Ballinger is here, we can steal her seat."

Lilly ran after her friend, "Why do you even hate her so much?!" 

The two women's arrangement faded off as they turned a corner.

"Holy shit, that was Singh & Sings?" Appeared Bob's voice.

Mark turned around and saw his friends watching the two odd women in wonder. 

Wade gave a questioning glance to Bob. "How do you know this?"

"I read the fashion magazines Jack has lying around the house when we come to visit." Bob replied dismissively. "They're a really epic brand from what I could understand."

"Well, Mark looks dashing in his suit." Said Molly, Wade's fiance, complimented. "Jack's piece?"

"Not really. He had his classmate, Dan, tailor it."

"Dan 'Howlter' Dan?" Amanda questioned.

"Yeah." 

"He was the one who married that male model, remember, Molly?" Amanda questioned, facing her friend. "We had a sleepover and cheered when they announced their engagement."

Wade pouted at this, "Where the hell were we during this?"

"On a business meeting abroad." Molly answered pointedly. 

Then Mark's phone rang. He took it out and saw it was a text message from Jack. "The show's about to start."

"We better get going then." Bob said, letting the women go first, and the men behind them.

 

 

 

The Burberry show just finished, and Tyler and Marzia ditched the after-party and took a cab to Jack's show.

"They must be half way through the show, we could probably be in time for the final walk." Marzia stated as she analyzed the e-invitation Mark had sent her.

Tyler handed the cabbie a 20, "Step on it."

They get to the venue in less than five minutes.

Paying the cabbie, the two models ran inside. They just finished their fashion engagement, so looking like perfect Barbie dolls wasn't even in their subconscious at all. Their hair must be in complete disarray from running all over the place, and their makeup may be running from all the sweat they accumulated from the exercise. 

The last model disappeared behind stage. And then it was the final cat walk. People were clapping for a well-made collection.

Tyler and Marzia weren't being biased by saying it's a 'well-made collection' just because the designer is their friend, but because they had been in the fashion industry long enough to judge what looked good, and they were there when Jack choose which pieces to show.

"Holy shit, look at Shane Dawson's Burkin bag." Tyler whispered to Marzia. 

"There's Felix!" Marzia whispered back.

At then end of the line were Jack and Felix, standing side by side, muttering silently to each other. And as they reached the edge of the catwalk,

Felix did a pose which made people chuckle. He grinned and then gestured to Jack.

Jack waved and bowed, silently thanking everp presence in the room. And then he saw his two friends. He beamed and waved enthusiastically at them.

Tyler and Marzia clapped louder, smiling wildly at their friend.

"Brava! Brava!" Tyler exclaimed.

Jack gave them a glance before he and Felix retreated to the backstage.

 

 

 

 

 

"What the bloody hell." Dan said, incredulous, "To see the day, the ever fabulous Tyler Oakley in just a bathrobe."

"Well, excuse you, boo," Tyler told him, "We had to run all the way from Burberry to get here on time."

Dan scoffed. "Did you see Lilly and Miranda? It's a shock to see them here in London."

Marzia pressed her hands to her face, "Oh no! They can't see us like this!"

"There you are!" Exclaimed Mark as he wedged himself from the crowd, "Jack told me to fetch you two, he's got stuff backstage for you."

Tyler have a smug smile to Dan. "Jack got us emergency outfits."

"Seems like you don't have the guts to strut in robe and boots." Taunted Dan.

As soon as the two of them got out of their Burberry outfits, wearing the bathrobes they were lent, Tyler and Marzia jumped in their shoes and dashed off. They eluded the fashion paparazzi. They'll get their clothes from a colleague later.

Tyler pointed at Dan, "Another more word from you, Dan Howell-Lester, and I'll tell your dear husband you've been mean to me, thus you'll be abstained from any sexy times tonight."

Dan glared at him. 

Mark took the two away.

 

"Who was the model with Lettuce Boy at the final walk?" Miranda questioned as she put on her shades, raising her hand when the cameras started flashing their way.

Lilly put her own shades on, smiling amicably at the camera-carriers. "I don't know, must be a new talent he found. Let's ask Jack."

Miranda looked at her friend weirdly, "Who the even heck is 'Jack'?"

Lilly dismissed her with a wave of hand. "Come on, let's go find the designer."

 

 

 

 

Wade and Molly, Bob and Amanda, and Zoe, Joe, Phil and Jack were laughing when Mark and the others appeared.

"Hey!" Zoe exclaimed. "Glad you could make it!" 

Jack looked at Amanda and Molly, "Girls, these are also my friends, Tyler Oakley and Marzia Bisognin."

Amanda stuck out a hand to shake with Tyler, but Tyler pulled her and kissed her cheek, "Come on honey, I don't bite!"

They laughed.

Marzia turned to Jack, "Where's Felix?"

"Holy shit! I fit in these heels!" Yelled an oddly familiar voice. Then, the curtain divider behind Jack opened, showing Felix in just his shirt and boxers, wearing black suede six-inch heels.

Dan scoffed, gesturing to his choice of shoes, "What are those?!"

Phil hummed contemplatively, "I think they're cool, actually."

Dan kept mum, and then said, "Hey Felix, lemme have a round in it, won't you?"

Everybody erupted in a good-natured laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

"Your fashion line name could do with more... _aesthetics_." Says one of the critics crowded in front Jack.

Mask narrowed his eye at her, "Sod off."

The critics laughed.

"No, seriously, sod off."

They grew quiet.

He folded his arms over his chest, "Using that name was what reflected the theme I was going for, and if you ask can't appreciate it. Well, forget you." And he walked off.

Jack glanced to the bar where his fashion line name was all spelled out in neon green lights.

'SEPTIC EYE'

"They're kinda right, though." Appeared a woman's voice.

Jack twirled around and saw a tab woman standing beside him, looking contemplative at the neon sign. To her other side was a woman in books red lipstick and shades, but Jack could feel that hee eyes were scrutinizing him.

"W-- excuse me?" He asked.

The tan woman faced him, gesturing to the sign, "It does sound disgusting, thus easily undermined your collection. So it only takes certain people to wear your normcore pieces without judging your brand name." When she finally noticed the lost look on his face, she stuck out her hand, "Lilly Singh. From Singh & Sings."

"Oh!" He said in recognition. "You tweeted me."

"We did." Said the red lip woman, she took off her shades. "And who was that model who opened for you? His walk reminded me of _mine_."

Lilly smiled at her friend, and then faced Jack, "Which is weird," she added, "because Miranda doesn't like people easily and her modeling career was _ages_ ago."

Jack blinked, "You mean Felix?"

Lilly's brows rose, "'Felix?'"

"What?"

All three of them turned and saw the blond, holding two champagne flutes and held one out to Jack. Felix stared at the two women, and then asked his friend, "Bro, you've been talkin' about me?"

Lilly held her hand or to shake, "Hi!" Felix hesitantly shook it. "I'm Lilly Singh. This is my business partner Miranda Sings."

Miranda gave a cringy smile. 

"Which agency are you signed in?" Lilly questioned.

"He's not--" Jack was cut off.

"I'm not a professional model, I just did this one time thing for Jackaboy, 'cause I knew how important this show is for him."

Suddenly, Lilly was digging in her clutch and pulled out a card, handing it to Felix, "Do consider our agency." Then the two women walked off.

Felix faced his body to Jack, while staring at the card in his hands. 

"Thinkin' about being a pro-model?" Jack questioned.

Felix pursed his lips, then crumpled the card, "Nah, modeling is Marzia's thing. I'm fabulous enough."

Jack laughed, taking a sip of his wine. "Anyway, why'd you get me fancy champy?"

Felix jabbed his thumb behind him, "The whole gang's back there, and we're already having fun without you."

 

 

 

After-parties in fashion shows don't usually have VIP sections, but somehow, Jack felt like he was in the VIP section in the corner they occupied. Laughing along Wade's corny jokes, Bob calling out anybody's stupidity, being affected by Tyler's contagious laughter, and feeling good about his friends' presence.

They weren't intoxicated enough, but there was some rosiness to everybody's faces. They've ditched the alcohol. And somehow, some of them got a cup of coffee in their hands.

Suddenly, Jack felt someone's hand hovering over his, and soon enough it slotted comfortably between his fingers. He looked up and faced Mark, who was smiling at him.

Jack smiled back. And as if through that exchange of smiles, they spoke. 

_'This is our life now. And we've got friends to remember it with.'_

Jack turned back to watching Felix and Tyler out-fab each other.

Jack agreed. This was their life now, and he was happy he's not only got Mark for the rest of his life, but also great friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End.
> 
> I have to end this here, beautiful people. I couldn't add more because if I did, my bastard-streak would come up again. 
> 
>  
> 
> I found the underlying theme of this story: friendship.
> 
> Life isn't just about romance, its about doing something you love, somewhere you love, with people you love. 
> 
> Yes, no more shrewd words from me.
> 
> With this, I end this story with nothing else to add.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and good night.

**Author's Note:**

> Mm hm, Felix had been terrorizing Jack.
> 
> Jack, on the other hand, kidnapped his and Mark's coffeemaker.
> 
> Moral of the story: Coffee is good for you, you call your crush, you fall asleeep, and when they come, they'll think you're totes adorbs.
> 
> If only.
> 
> HAHAHAHAHAHAH.
> 
> I'm pitiful.
> 
> Kudos and Comments if you liked please! 
> 
>  
> 
> And come scream at me on Tumblr:  
> butterkiller-blog.tumblr.com


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